


Time Travel Fix-It

by littlebyrde



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Attack of the Clones, BAMF Doctor (Doctor Who), BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, BAMF Padme, BAMF Rose Tyler, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Revenge of the Sith, crossover fix-it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebyrde/pseuds/littlebyrde
Summary: Sheev Palpatine was prepared for a lot of things. Two mad people materializing out of a blue box was not one of them. Or, Rose makes some new friends, Anakin gets the hug he so desperately needs, Obi-Wan meddles, the Doctor meddles even more, and Padme Amidala continues to be amazing. The galaxy won't know what hit it.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Rose Tyler & Padme Amidala, Rose Tyler & Tenth Doctor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewritingandriod](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thewritingandriod).



“Oooh, nice. Very retro,” the Doctor said, sticking his head out of the TARDIS.

“Retro?” Rose echoed skeptically, peeking out behind him.

The Doctor shrugged on his coat, stepping out of the TARDIS. “Well, by your standards. Nabooian cruisers like this went out of fashion, ooh, a handful of centuries before your time.” 

Rose looked around, taking in the beautiful, well-lit hallway, which hummed with the distant rumble of engines. The air had a bite to it, and she tugged her jean jacket a little closer as she stepped down. 

“So, space travel. But in the past?”

The Doctor shrugged, turning to stride further into the ship. The TARDIS door closed behind them with a click.

Rose trailed after him, lip twitching. Excitement flickered in her chest. She loved this part; the handful of moments after stepping out of the TARDIS, when they had no idea where they had landed and the Doctor took on that sharp, intrigued air, sticking his nose into every curious corner and mystery while spouting off incredible facts like they were nothing. There was a bounce in both of their steps, a childishness eagerness that Rose could never tire of. 

“Ah, here we go!” The Doctor exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. A vaguely approving look crossed his face. “Hyperdrive technology. Not bad.”

Rose joined him, lifting her chin to peer through a small window. Outside of the ship, stars streaked by in bright white blurs, dizzying against a pitch and navy background. Her breath caught. 

“‘S beautiful,” she breathed.

The Doctor grinned, looking down at her. “It is, isn’t it? Brilliant,” he declared.

After a moment of staring, Rose pulled her gaze away. “So, a couple of centuries before my time. When are we?” 

The Doctor scratched the back of his head. He squinted around them, at the bright, clean lines of the grey-blue and cream interior, then tilted his head to listen. “Judging by the state of the ship and the engines…” He trailed off, frowning. “I’m not sure. But we should find out.” 

Rose narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

The Doctor looked sheepish. “Well… If we are when we think we are, we might be in trouble.” 

Rose crossed her arms and shrugged. “Well, that’s a change, then.”

The Doctor laughed. “Fair point.” His smile dropped a bit. “I need to find a terminal or communications array. Come on.” He turned and continued down the hall, to a curved metal door. Two panes of bright light glowed from its surface, and more tracks of light skirted the ceiling. 

“Or a crewmate,” Rose said, hurrying after him. 

The Doctor’s eyebrow flickered up. “Good point. It’s awfully quiet. Where is everyone?” 

Rose grinned, tongue caught between her teeth. 

The Doctor pressed a button beside the door, which slid open silently, and came face to face with the muzzle of a gun. 

Both he and Rose froze, raising their hands. Rose’s heart stuttered. One would think, after the number of times something like this has happened to her, she would have been used to it. Nope. 

“Ah,” the Doctor muttered. “Found them.” 

Rose glared at him. 

The man holding the gun was young. Older than Rose by a good half-decade or so, but young. He wore dark leather and armor, and a hat with an unfamiliar crest. The Doctor must have recognized it, though, because his face did something complicated, before smoothing into a disarming grin. 

“Hello,” he chirped, leaning forward while rocking his heels, looking around the room eagerly. 

Rose pulled her eyes away from the gun and followed his gaze. 

The room was the exact same grey-blue and cream color palette as the hall, all curves and arches and bright white-yellow light. Not exactly to Rose’s taste, but pretty. More people in uniform were clustered within, staring at the newcomers with wide, surprised eyes. One of them wore a strange helmet and had planted himself in an unmistakable defensive posture, holding someone behind him. Rose caught sight of pale robes and dark hair trying to peek out from behind his arm. 

“I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor continued blithely, as if the gun leveled at his nose didn’t bother him in the slightest. “This is Rose.”

“Hello,” Rose said, nailing a bright, chipper tone and giving them all a small wave.

The uniformed guards in the room gaped. One, the one in front of the figure in white, spluttered, trying to gather himself to speak, but whoever was behind him had clearly grown impatient. 

The smaller figure wove stepped away, revealing herself to be a beautiful young woman with elaborately styled brown hair, clothed in heavy white and black. Rose winced in sympathy. That couldn’t have been comfortable, but not an ounce of distaste showed on her face. Instead, she wore a sharp, blank expression, like a figure carved from porcelain. Her eyes were dark and cunning, taking in Rose and the Doctor in several analytical seconds. 

She was small in stature, but she spoke like a woman used to being obeyed. “How did you get on this ship?” 

“Oh. Ah. Well, that’s a bit of a story-” 

“Then tell it,” the woman said, lifting an imperious eyebrow. 

Rose felt a small smile threaten to spread across her face. The Doctor gaped. 

The man beside her hissed something sharp, trying to nudge the woman behind him again, but she refused to move. He seemed unwilling to actually lay a hand on her, however, and settled for standing at her side with his gun ready, glaring. 

_ Some kind of dignitary, maybe?  _

She glanced around the room, at the finely appointed vessel and the contingent of nervous guards, and revised her assessment.

_ No, definitely. _

The Doctor, meanwhile, fished through his pocket. The guard in front of him tightened his grip on his gun, but the dignitary shot him a lightning-fast look, and he stilled. 

After a moment of searching, the Doctor withdrew his psychic paper with a triumphant ‘ah-ha!’ and held it out for them to see. Behind his shoulder, Rose couldn’t read it, but it was enough to make the guard lower his gun. Confusion painted his face, and the dignitary’s lips thinned the slightest bit. She inclined her head, revealing yet more ruthlessly styled hair. 

The man at her side didn’t seem convinced. He scowled. “We should have been informed of additional security,” he began. “Besides, we’ve been in hyperspace for hours. Someone would have seen you.” 

“Well, yes, I suppose they would have,” the Doctor agreed, nodding and scrambling for an excuse. “Unless, of course, we were very, very good at our jobs.”

He glanced at the psychic paper for himself, eyebrows lifting in faint, quickly hidden surprise. 

The man at the dignitary’s side bristled, offended. 

“Peace, Lieutenant,” the dignitary instructed. The man subsided, though he still wore a dark expression.

“It’s an honor to meet you officially, Senator,” the Doctor said, striding forward and sticking out a hand. 

Rose cheered silently, pleased with her deduction. 

The senator blinked thrice at the Doctor’s extended hand, then shook it. “A pleasure, Doctor.” 

“No, no, really,” the Doctor said, “your stance on the Military Creation Act is admirable, and your courage during the blockade, is, frankly, astounding.” 

Surprise blossomed in Rose’s chest. That was the same tone the Doctor took when he was lecturing her about important historical figures, or when he was about to introduce her to the royalty of some far off planet. The Senator must have done, or was going to do, something important, for him to talk like that. 

The Doctor gestured for Rose to join them, and she did, giving the Senator an awkward little head bob.

“Senator Amidala, this is Rose Tyler. Rose Tyler, Senator Amidala.”

“Pleasure,” Rose said, smiling. 

The Senator’s face softened a fraction, and she nodded in return. Then she turned her attention to the Lieutenant. As soon as she looked away, Rose locked eyes with the Doctor. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, grinning, and her lips quirked up in helpless sympathy. 

“How long until we arrive at Coruscant?” 

“Not long, Senator.” He glanced down at a device strapped to his wrist. It looked vaguely like a watch, and must have served the same purpose, because he said, “Fifteen minutes.”

The Senator nodded at the Doctor and Rose, then turned, and the pair of them glided away, flock of guards following. 

The Doctor hung back, leaning down to whisper to Rose. 

“Senator Padmé Amadala, formerly Naberrie, child queen of Naboo.” 

Rose’s head whipped around. “Child queen?” She demanded.

“Eh, the people of Naboo believe that children are more pure. Idealists, untouched by corruption. They’re not entirely wrong. Senator Amadala was elected when she was fourteen.” 

“ _ Fourteen?  _ And- No, wait. Hold on. You said queen. How come she was elected?”

“Democratically appointed monarch. Not an uncommon system.”

“But at fourteen, ruling a planet?” Rose shook her head. “I could barely get to school at fourteen.”

The Doctor let out a rueful laugh. “Well, she was running a whole city by the time she was thirteen; princess of Theed, capital of Naboo. Brilliant politician, incredible woman. History will remember Senator Amidala for generations.” He frowned. “If I’m right, she dies less than a decade from now. Nobody knows how.” 

Rose gasped, turning to look at the Senator, who was speaking quietly to the Lieutenant and a woman wearing a hooded black cloak.

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor agreed. “Still, she leaves quite the legacy. And I’ll tell you something else.”

“What?”

“That,” he said, tilting his chin towards the Senator, “is not Padmé Amidala.”

“What?”

“Nope.” He gave Rose a sly grin. “It’s an old tradition on Naboo to use body doubles to keep the monarch safe. I’ll bet Amidala’s kept the tradition alive, even after moving to the Senate. That’s probably one of her handmaidens.” The Doctor noted her confusion and explained. “Elite force of personal security who dedicate their lives to protecting her, probably since she was queen.”

Rose looked at the woman with new respect. “Wow.” Then her brows furrowed. “What are they so afraid of?” 

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow.

“They’re all scared,” Rose replied, turning into the Doctor and keeping her voice low. “When we walked in, they almost panicked. And Am- The handmaiden-“

“Go ahead and call her Amidala. We don’t want to give the game away.”

“Right. Amidala thought we were extra security. Security from what?”

“Dunno,” The Doctor replied. “Senator Amidala will have dozens of assassination attempts leveled at her throughout her life. This could be any one of them.” He scratched his nose. “Buuuut, she didn’t blink when I mentioned the Military Creation Act. And I said ‘is’ admirable, not was.” 

“So…?”

All of the amusement vanished from the Doctor’s face. “So, if I’m right, and I usually am, we are right at the beginning of a galactic civil war.”

Rose’s stomach twisted. “Right,” she muttered. She looked back at the three figures, deep in conversation. “Is that- is that how she dies?” 

The Doctor shrugged. “Dunno,” he said sadly. “Could be. It’s all a bit hazy. Incomplete records of the time period. This whole galaxy is about to be plunged into a dark age that lasts for nearly a century.” He looked very sad and very old at that moment, staring at young ‘Amidala’ and her men while seeing something else. They had no idea what was coming. 

Rose felt ill. “God.”

The Doctor gave her a strained smile. “Works out in the end, I suppose. New Republic gets founded eventually, some say stronger than before.”

“But still. That’s so sad,” Rose said, taking his hand. 

“That’s history,” the Doctor replied, though he looked no happier than she felt. 

A thought occurred to Rose. “Wait. Hang on. Can we be here?” Her mind flashed back to her father, to the reapers, and she shuddered, a chill going down her spine. “It’s not a fixed point or anything?” 

The Doctor opened his mouth, then paused, brows knitting. “Now that you mention it… no. And it should be. This whole time period should be completely inaccessible to a time traveler. Too much happens. But… it’s not. Actually, it’s fine.”

He frowned, thinking hard. 

Rose studied his expression. “Is that… bad?” 

The Doctor rocked back on his heels. “Well. Time is in flux. It could mean nothing. It’s like- like the difference between traveling to say, London, during the blitz,” he gave her a cheeky smile, before it faded back into a pensive expression, “and waltzing into Hilter’s office. Some things, days and moments, can be changed, even during pivotal periods of history. Some can’t. Senator Amidala  _ cannot  _ die today. The rest of her people… who knows.” 

“Why?”

The Doctor sighed, shoulders slumping. “Everyone is important, Rose. You know that. But most people impact their immediate circles. Friends and family and nearby strangers. That causes ripples through the whole timeline, but the changes they make are subtle. Critical to individuals, but hard to see on a grander scale. Some people, on the other hand, cause ripple-effects that can change the fate of the universe. Padmé Amidala’s one of them.” 

Rose chewed on her lip. “That doesn’t seem fair.” 

The Doctor didn’t have an answer to that. 

Across the room, The Lieutenant lifted his head. “Ten minutes to Coruscant,” he called. 

The Doctor brightened. “Oh, you’ll love Coruscant,” he said. “The entire planet is a city.” 

“What, the whole thing?”

“Yup. Around three  _ trillion _ people live there. High rises hundreds of stories tall, and the whole planet gleams silver.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “It’s the center of the whole Galactic Republic, the seat of its political power.” 

Rose couldn’t help but beam back. “You don’t like politicians,” she teased. 

“Well, not most of them. Still, it’s an impressive planet.” 

Rose giggled. Around them, the crew of the ship prepared to bring it down to land. The Doctor looked around, then frowned, disappointed. 

“No viewports,” he grumbled. “Fair enough, though. I wouldn’t want to stand next to a window either.” 

Rose blinked.  _ Assassination attempt. Right.  _

“We’ve got ten minutes to investigate,” Rose pointed out slyly. 

The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows. “Think we should poke around?” 

Rose laughed and hooked her arm through his. “Lead the way.” 

The Doctor went to speak with the Lieutenant first, but Rose didn’t understand half the theories and motives they were discussing and wandered away to stand beside the small woman who’d laughed at the Lieutenant earlier.  _ The domestic approach.  _

“Hi,” she said. 

The woman seemed startled for a moment, before collecting herself. 

It might have been a little unfair for Rose to call her small. She herself only had an inch or two on the woman, and she was a fair bit more muscular than Rose. 

“I’m Rose.” 

“Hello,” the woman replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Rose glanced back at the Doctor and the Lieutenant, who seemed to be arguing over the blank-faced Senator’s head. She grimaced slightly.

“They don’t seem to be getting much done,” she joked. 

The woman huffed. 

“The Lieutenant means well. He’s protective.” 

“I noticed,” Rose said, putting her hands on her hips and giving the woman a playful smile. She was maybe a handful of years older than Rose, and very pretty under her hood, with wide, warm brown eyes and full lips. “What was your name?”

“Versé,” the woman replied. 

“That’s lovely,” Rose complimented. 

“Thank you,” the woman said, giving Rose a small smile.

“So,” Rose began, turning her words over carefully. “The Senator.” 

Versé arched a dark brow. “What about her?” 

“Who do you think might want to kill her?” 

Versé seemed taken aback, before a spark of anger lit in her face. She drew herself up, shoulders squaring and chin lifting in indignation. “The Senator had many enemies,” she replied, voice cool. 

Rose hummed. “So I’ve been told. But we’ve only just got here, the Doctor and I, and we’re meant to protect her. ‘S hard to do when we don’t know who we’re protecting her from.” She gave Versé a reassuring smile. 

Versé pursed her lips. “My apologies. I- It’s not you I’m angry at.” She sighed, looking exhausted. 

Rose brushed it off. “S a stressful situation,” she replied, touching Versé’s shoulder gently. “Really, we just want to help.”

Versé softened. “And the Senator is grateful for that.” 

Rose started to speak again, but the Doctor interrupted her. 

“Rose!” He called, waving her to his side from across the room. 

Rose sighed and gave Versé a rueful smile. “Duty calls.” 

Versé laughed and inclined her head. “Good luck.” 

Rose flashed her a quick grin and jogged away. The Doctor was squinting at some kind of tablet, specs perched on his nose. 

“I was right.” 

Rose rolled her eyes to herself. “Great. About what?”

“The date,” he replied. “The Senate is going to vote on the Military Creation Act in the next few days.”

“The start of the war,” Rose guessed.

“More or less,” the Doctor agreed. “Like I said, it’s all a bit hazy. Dunno what actually kicks off the conflict, but this,” the Doctor said, waving the tablet, “won’t help.” 

“You think someone doesn’t want her to vote?” Rose asked. 

“That’s what the Lieutenant and the Senator think.” 

“You don’t.”

“Well,” the Doctor said, scrunching up his nose and adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, that’s part of it. But Senator Amidala is a symbol. Child Queen of Naboo, protégé of the sitting Chancellor. She’s a hero to her people, and a political idealist. This vote is personal to her and her planet. If she speaks against it, if she votes no, others will listen.” 

“Won’t killing her make them listen, too?” Rose asked, confused. 

“Maybe. Maybe it’ll just make them angry.” The Doctor scowled. “And it will definitely make them afraid.”

“And scared people do stupid things,” Rose quoted.

“Exactly.” 

“But she survives this,” Rose pointed out. “You said so.”

“She  _ probably  _ survives this. She’s supposed to. That doesn’t mean she will.”

“Time is in flux.”

The Doctor nodded. “Besides, the real Senator Amidala isn’t on board. We have no idea what will happen here.”

Rose’s gut churned at the thought. 

The Doctor tapped his tablet against his chin. “They’ve already swept the ship. The Lieutenant cleared it himself, and he doesn’t strike me as a traitor.”

Rose crossed her arms and leaned closer, peering at the screen. Her shoulder brushed against the Doctor’s, and she was close enough that she could smell him. 

“So what?” Rose asked. “Assasins don’t just give up, do they?” 

“No,” the Doctor agreed, voice low so that despite the crows around them, their conversation felt private. “My money’s on a trap. I’ve spoken with the Lieutenant, asked if they can change their landing plan.” 

“Can they?”

The Doctor grimaced. “He’s going to find out.” 

“What do we do if they can’t?” 

“Be very, very careful.” 

The Lieutenant was not able to change their landing plans. He did, however, insist on exiting the ship first to check the platform, alongside Versé. The Doctor argued his way into tagging along, much to the Captain’s frustration. Rose, Versé, and the Senator watched the two men attempt to verbally wrestle the other into submission, Rose with amusement, Versé and Senator Amidala with vague, reluctant respect.

“He’s insistent, your Doctor,” Versé murmured. 

Rose giggled. “You think this is bad? You shoulda seen him arguing with my mum.” 

The Senator lifted an eyebrow, making an amused sound at the back of her throat. “I’m sure it was impressive.” 

The ship touched down with a slight jostle. 

“Right,” the Lieutenant announced, putting his hands on his hips. “Nobody move. The Doctor and I are going to check the landing pad.” 

Rose opened her mouth, but the Doctor was shaking his head before she could insist on coming with him.

“You stay here with the Senator, Rose. This is the safest room on the ship. Seal the doors after us, and keep them closed until the landing pad’s clear. Keep an eye out.”

Rose pursed her lips, but didn’t argue. 

Together, the Doctor and the Lieutenant left the main room, the doors sliding closed behind them.

Rose shifted, nerves wriggling in her stomach. The Doctor would be fine. He could handle himself. Still, she worried. 

In a desperate bid to distract herself, she turned back to Versé and Senator Amidala. She didn’t have long to think of something to say. Almost at once, she heard the distant sound of panicked shouting. It was muffled by the thick walls and blast-proof door, but it was unmistakably the Doctor. 

She whipped around, both she and Versé pushing the ‘Senator’ behind them and ending up shoulder to shoulder. They stood stock-still for several heartbeats, braced for action. Then the world turned to flame. 

Rose came too with a pounding headache. Her whole body throbbed, and the skin of her face felt tight and raw. She could smell smoke and burning hair. Someone had their arms around her shoulder.

“...ose. Rose! Can you hear me?”

The familiar buzzing of the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver whined in her ears. She moaned in pain, trying to shove it away. The Doctor let out a sigh of relief and pulled her into his chest, burying his nose in her hair. His hearts were beating fast against her cheek, and the front of his suit was badly singed. 

Rose pried her eyes open and was greeted by the underside of his jaw and a sharp stab of pain. Even the dim, diffuse grey-ish light was too bright for her aching head. 

“What happened?” She slurred. 

“Explosion on the ship. The Lieutenant and I were able to find it before it went off, but someone wasn’t happy with us for it. Come on, up you get. You’ve got a concussion, but whoever set off that charge isn’t far. We have to go.” 

The Doctor sprang to his feet and pulled Rose up with him. She swayed, dizzy, but managed to stay standing. 

“Senator Amidala-”

“Perfectly fine,” the Doctor assured. “She was behind you and Versé. A bit bruised, that’s all. And,” he said, lowering his head to whisper in her ear, “the real Padmé’s safe, too.”

“And Versé?”

Here, the Doctor grimaced. Rose’s heart sank. 

“Alive. Out cold, but alive. She’ll be okay.” 

Rose sighed with relief, sagging against the Doctor’s side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders once more, pulling her close and helping her limp across the platform. Cold wind stung her cheeks, carrying with it the scent of exhaust and burnt metal. 

Rose squinted around at the grey scenery. People scrambled to and fro, and somewhere, something was beeping unhappily. Smoke curled away from the scattered wreckage, drifting off towards the sky. The landing pad seemed to be suspended above a carpet of white clouds, the tops of skyscrapers peeking out like wayward mountaintops here and there. Rose could hear sirens. 

The Doctor helped her into a nearby transport, where a worried looking young woman with blue skin and white hair began fussing over her. Rose insisted that she was fine, but the woman wasn’t satisfied until she’d smeared Rose’s face with something blue and slimy. Rose wrinkled her nose at the sickly-sweet scent, but it felt like aloe on a sunburn, soothing and cool, so she stopped arguing. The woman also gave her some painkillers, before declaring that her concussion should clear up within the day. She also gave the pair of them a stern lecture, making them swear up and down to seek medical treatment if Rose’s symptoms didn’t go away. 

Meanwhile, the Doctor requested that the TARDIS be retrieved, and they were both promised that it would be delivered to Senator Amidala’s residence at the earliest opportuntiy. 

Then they were landing at yet another unfamiliar building and being shepherded from the transport. They’d dipped below the clouds, but the air was still cool, sharp wind threading its fingers through Rose’s hair. It smelled of smog and metal, and she could hear the distant sound of traffic. For a moment, she was reminded of home. But the balcony was grander than any apartment she’d visited in London. Smooth curves and columns of marble gleamed in the pale daylight. The floor was painted with red and black shapes, and the open curve was flanked by a pair of gleaming bronze statues. Bright white curtains rippled slightly in the breeze, and soft, curved couches festooned with pillows created concentric levels. 

Milling about the elegant space was contingent of guards dressed in familiar brown leather, as well as a cluster of young women in flowing robes. All of them were arranged around a small woman with brown hair and a furious expression. 

That, Rose surmised, was the real Senator Amidala. She wasn’t wearing regalia, like her handmaiden, but she didn’t need it. The woman seemed to burn with righteous rage, exuding a breathtaking presence. The entire balcony scene seemed to revolve around her, like she was the sun and everyone and everything else orbited around her gravity. 

As soon as Rose and the Doctor stepped onto the white marble of the balcony, she was striding towards them. Her chin was high, and her large brown eyes flashed. She did look an awful lot like her decoy, from a distance.

She stopped in front of the Doctor and Rose and gave them both a deep curtsey. Rose looked at the Doctor with wide eyes. 

“You saved my handmaidens’ lives,” she said, her voice higher than Rose had been expecting. “ _ Thank you. _ ” 

The Doctor shifted, uncomfortable as always with her gratitude, and Rose felt herself flush. 

“Senator,” a curly-haired man began, tone warning. He was dressed in the same black leather vest and red leggings as the Senator, and he wore a metallic eyepatch. 

The Senator ignored him, straightening. “My name is Padmé Amidala.”

“Guessed that, thanks,” the Doctor replied. 

Rose squashed the urge to elbow him in the ribs. The Senator didn’t seem offended, at least. She smiled, though anger still smoldered in her gaze. 

“My Lieutenant tells me that it was you, Doctor, who located the explosive. Tell me, how did it come to be aboard my ship? It was searched multiple times before our departure. And why wait until we reached Coruscant? Why not detonate in hyperspace? The chances of survival would be much slimmer.” 

“Senator, please, we must get out of the open,” the same dark-haired man urged. 

Senator Amidala closed her eyes for a moment, her jaw working, before letting out a measured breath. 

“Very well, Captain,” she agreed. She looked back at the Doctor and Rose. “Please, join me. I must go speak at the Senate and inform them of the  _ incident  _ as soon as possible, and my continued survival,” her rage blazed higher, though it didn’t show in her voice, “but first, I would like to know what you found.” 

“Of course, Senator,” the Doctor replied. “Lead the way.” 

The Senator turned on her heel and swept up the balcony, leading them into a tastefully decorated apartment. It was done in shades of blue and yellow. The walls were curved, and the massive, arched windows afforded the entire place a spectacular view of the city. It was lovely, though the height was starting to give Rose vertigo, and the expansive panes of glass were probably making the Captain exceedingly nervous. 

“Senator-” he began again. 

Padmé rounded on him. “I refuse to conceded to fear in my own home, Captain,” she snapped. 

The man winced, but bowed his head. The Doctor shifted. 

“Senator, that’s very admirable, but someone did just try to kill you.” He inched closer. “They almost succeeded.” 

The Senator trembled with ill-contained fury for a moment, before slumping. “I know,” she said. “I know.” Her dark eyes glistened with emotion, though her face remained remarkably smooth. Rose envied her composure. She couldn’t imagine the kind of fit she would throw in the Senator’s position. 

“But my apartment has been thoroughly searched by my handmaidens. We are in no danger here,” she continued. 

The Doctor and Rose both looked doubtfully at the windows, but the Senator ignored them. 

“Please,” she said, sweeping over to a pair of soft-looking beige couches, “sit.” 

The Doctor and Rose exchanged a look, before taking their seats. The Senator paused before joining them, looking over her shoulder at the four-strong contingent of handmaidens shadowing her steps. 

“Sabé, if you could,” she asked, hopeful and exhausted. 

One of the hooded women inclined her head and vanished deeper into the apartment. Senator Amidala sank onto the couch across from her guests. A lesser woman would have sighed and collapsed into the cushions, but the Senator sat straight-backed and proud. Despite her disheveled hair and crumpled leather jerkin, Rose had no trouble believing that she had been a Queen. 

“So, Doctor,” the Senator prompted. “The explosive?”

“Right.” The Doctor scratched his jaw and leaned forward. “I’m not sure how it got onto your ship,” he admitted. “I didn’t have time to check. As for why they waited until you reached Coruscant, well. The bomb was triggered by a remote. Someone was watching, waiting for you. And…”

“And?”

“Well, it’s a statement,” the Doctor pointed out. “Come here, get killed. Stay away, stay safe.” 

The Captain behind Padmé winced. The Senator didn’t. Her face could have been carved from the same marble as her balcony. 

“I see.” 

The same handmaiden appeared again, holding a silver tray of teacups and an elegant, steaming pot. Rose brightened at the prospect. Tea, the old English standby. 

The Senator gave her handmaiden, Sabé, a grateful smile. 

“Milady,” Sabé murmured. “You must get to the senate. The session will commence soon, and we must get you ready.” 

The Senator closed her eyes, collecting herself. 

“You’re right.” She sighed and brushed off her leggings. “My apologies, Doctor, Rose. I’m afraid that I must take my leave. You are welcome to discuss this further with Captain Typho. And,” she paused, weighing her words, before nodding to herself, “and I would be most grateful if the pair of you would accompany us to the Senate Rotunda.” 

“Senator-!” Captain Typho protested. 

Padmé held up a delicate hand. 

“The Doctor has already saved the lives of my dear friends, Captain Typho, at risk to both himself and Rose. I will not repay that kindness with suspicion.” 

The Doctor smiled at Senator Amidala, that same soft, impressed grin he got when a human proved themselves more than some ‘stupid ape’. Rose found herself touched as well. She liked Senator Amidala quite a lot, so far. 

“Senator, it would be our honor,” the Doctor declared. 


	2. Chapter 2

The senate rotunda was impressive. Rose couldn’t help but stare, struggling not to gape, at the massive, luxurious room. Padmé, however, wasted no time appreciating the view. Her argument was passionate and well put, but despite her best efforts, the vote was delayed. 

Afterward, she stormed towards the Chancellor’s office like a particularly elegant hurricane in high heels. The Doctor followed her wearing a pensive frown, while Rose tried not to feel horribly out of place. It was worse than Downing Street. Senator Amidala’s handmaidens had been kind enough to replace her burnt outfit with a pretty, pastel pink gown, so at least she wasn’t walking around covered in soot, but even so, the sheer opulence of the Senate dwarfed her. 

She fidgeted with her loose skirt and leaned towards the Doctor. “What are you thinking?”

The Doctor’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure yet.” 

Padmé and her retinue swept around another corner, brushing past a small cluster of other politicians. Rose liked to think she had gotten used to aliens in her travels with the Doctor, but the sheer diversity of the Senate crowd was still a bit overwhelming. There must have been hundreds, if not thousands, of species represented. 

“Okay,” she said. Before Rose could keep asking questions, Padmé strode into a small reception area, where a blue, insectoid alien waited behind a desk. 

“Senator Padmé Amidala, representing the Loyalist Committee, here to see the Chancellor,” she announced. 

The alien behind the desk inclined its head. “It is a pleasure to see you well, Senator. Allow me to announce you.” He stood and pressed a small button by his desk. The flickering blue image of an older man with thinning hair appeared before him. “The Loyalist Committee has arrived, Your Honor.”

“Good. Send them in.” 

“Very good, sir.” The alien ended the call and gestured for Padmé and her retinue to enter. 

Padmé lifted her chin and practically charged through the sliding doors. Rose, the Doctor, and the handful of others trailing her followed on her heels, emerging into a large office. Seven beings occupied it, apparently having some kind of conference. Two were women, both with green skin and dark robes, one wearing a hood that cast her face in shadow. The other five were male. 

Four were aliens that Rose had never seen before. One was a man with faintly pink skin, an oversized skull, and cloudy white facial hair. Another was green, with huge, wet black eyes and tentacles on his head. The third, seated in one of the Chancellor’s soft black chairs, was vaguely orange, with craggy skin, clawed hands, and some kind of breathing apparatus. The last was a tiny, shriveled green creature, with the remains of wispy white hair and large, pointed ears. He reminded Rose of some kind of goblin. 

The final two were human, a black man with a bald head, wearing dark robes that reminded Rose of some kind of monk, the other the same man from the hologram; the Chancellor. She’d seen him speaking in the Senate rotunda, announcing Padmé’s supposed death. He was old, but kind-looking, with receding grey hair and a lined face. He sat behind a large, sleek black desk, framed by a massive window revealing a panoramic view of the city. The bright blue and grey of the skyline was a welcome relief from the eye-watering red of the walls and floor. 

The air was warmer in the office and smelled of spices and cologne and the many, many cups of caffeine that had been consumed there. Despite the gaudy color scheme, it felt welcoming, less like the office of a stern headmaster and more like the study of a kindly grandfather. Like Padmé‘s apartment, it seemed to favor bold, curved lines and lux textures. Rose remembered vaguely that the Doctor had called Padmé the man’s protégé.

The Chancellor looked exhausted up close, worn down by the threat of violence, and all of his guests seemed tense. 

“We will discuss this matter later,” the Chancellor said, standing from his dark chair. 

The small goblin-alien clambered from his seat and approached Padmé. “Senator Amidala,” he began, in a gravelly voice, shuffling towards her while leaning on a cane, “your incident on the landing platform, terrible. Glad no one was hurt, I am. Seeing you alive, brings warm feeling to my heart.” 

Rose slid a glance at the Doctor, wondering if something was playing havoc with the TARDIS translation matrix somehow, but he seemed unconcerned. In fact, he was looking around the Chancellor’s office with a bright, enamored grin, gaze lingering on the strange collection of guests. 

The small goblin- it probably wasn’t kind to call him a goblin, but Rose couldn’t come up with any kinder synonyms- paused, after speaking to Padmé, and gave the Doctor a very strange look.

“Do you have any idea who’s behind this attack?” She demanded. 

The tall, bald man in monk’s robes walked out from behind the chairs. “Our intelligence points to disgruntled spice miners on the moons of Naboo.” 

Padmé opened her mouth to argue, but the Doctor was already stepping forwards, tugging on his ear.

“Well, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he said, voice cheerful, as if he wasn’t discussing the near-death of an important political figure. “From what I saw, that bomb wasn’t the work of any spicer.” 

The bald man narrowed his eyes. “And you are?”

“Name’s the Doctor,” the Doctor said, sticking out a hand to shake. “This is Rose. We’re working for the Senator.” 

“Hello,” Rose chirped, smoothing her pink skirt and giving the man her brightest smile. 

His scowl only deepened. “Jedi Master Mace Windu,” he said, shaking the Doctor’s hand. 

The Doctor bounced like a child on a sugar rush. 

“Oooh, it’s an honor to meet you, Master Windu,” he said, pumping the man’s hand with enthusiasm. “Never met a Jedi before. I’m delighted.” 

Rose gave him a bemused look, and Master Windu seemed equally taken aback. 

“Ah. Right.” He reclaimed his hand from the Doctor and tucked it into his sleeve. “What makes you believe it wasn’t a spicer?”

“I think it was Count Dooku,” Padmé interrupted. 

The man with the oversized head, still lingering near the Chancellor’s desk, spoke up. “He’s a political idealist, not a murderer.” 

“You know, my Lady, that Count Dooku was once a Jedi. He couldn’t assassinate anyone. It’s not in his character.” 

The Doctor shrugged. “People change,” he pointed out. 

“And he’s not a Jedi anymore,” Rose piped up, though she wasn’t entirely certain what that meant one way or the other. 

“And as for political idealism,” the Doctor continued, “people have killed for less.” 

Master Windu scowled at both of them. Rose was starting to think it was his default setting.

“I do not believe-”

“It matters not,” the goblin said. He looked tired, his pointed ears drooping. “In grave danger, you are, Senator, behind this attack, whoever it is.” 

“Master Jedi,” the Chancellor said, staring pensively out of the large panoramic window. “May I suggest the Senator be placed under the protection of your graces?”

Padmé’s expression slackened. The man she’d introduced as Bail Organa, of Alderaan, stepped up.

“Do you really think that’s a wise decision, under these stressful times?”

“Chancellor,” Padmé began, visibly angered, “if I may comment, I do not believe the situat-”

“The situation is that serious?” He turned away from the window and began to approach. As soon as his eyes landed on the Doctor, his face twitched, brows furrowing in confusion. Then the expression vanished as if it had never been, and he sighed. “No, but I do, Senator. I realize all too well that additional security might be disruptive for you, but… perhaps someone you’re familiar with?” He seemed to have an idea. “An old friend, like- Master Kenobi.” 

“That’s possible,” Master Windu said, but Rose was studying the Doctor’s face. His hands were in his pockets, and his brown were knitted as he stared thoughtfully at the Chancellor. Rose looked the man up and down once again and wondered what she was missing. 

“He’s just returned from a border dispute on Antion,” the Jedi went on.

The Chancellor’s face softened into something beseeching. “Do it for me, milady, please. The thought of losing you,” he paused, gathering himself, “is unbearable.” 

Rose felt for him. In his heavy black robes, framed with the brilliant blue of the Coruscant skyline, he looked old and haggard, worry shining in his blue eyes. 

“I’ll have Obi-Wan report to you immediately, milady,” Master Windu said, stepping closer to Padmé. His stern expression finally dropped, a spark of compassion showing through his mask. He gave the Senator a short bow. 

“Thank you, Master Windu,” she replied. 

The Loyalist Committee filtered further into the room, while the collection of Jedi slipped out. The goblin stopped before the Doctor and gave him an assessing look. 

“Speak with you, might I, Doctor?” He asked, gesturing towards the door. 

The Doctor looked up at Padmé, who had gone to join Bail Organa and the Chancellor’s desk. She was too distracted to pay them any mind. 

“Certainly,” the Doctor agreed. “Rose, stay here, watch out for them.” 

Rose huffed, but nodded. This, she thought, was going to be very boring. 

Master Yoda shuffled from the Chancellor’s office, the strange newcomer walking conscientiously at his side. The Force swirled around him, giving Yoda the impression of golden sand and fire and something very old. There was a hint of the Dark side to him, a deep and abiding anger that tainted the brilliant glow of his presence, but it was distant. Held at bay. And his eyes were so much older than the rest of him, dark and sad despite his wide grin and exuberance. Master Yoda felt an odd sense of kinship with him. They were both, he thought, far too old. 

Master Windu lingered, eyeing the man distrustfully, and Yoda could feel the confusion and concern that his companions were attempting to release into the Force. This Doctor, and the shining golden woman he’d brought with him, with her presence like the blaze of dying stars and relentless ocean tideas and the bright promise of spring, and the Force screaming around her like the lonely howl of an aak wolf, frightened them. There was something terrible and Other around them both, something impossible for any trained Force-sensitive to miss. 

They frightened Master Yoda as well, though he was far better at banishing that fear than the rest of them. He’d had centuries of practice. 

“Older than you look, you are,” Master Yoda began, once they were out of earshot of the Chancellor’s office. 

The Doctor flashed him a smile. “You’re observant, you are,” he said, unperturbed. “Yeah, I am.” 

“Not human, though human, you look.” 

The Doctor shrugged and tucked his hands back into his pockets. 

“Hmmm. How did you come to be with Senator Amidala?” 

“Pure chance, to be honest. She needed help, and we were around.” 

Yoda squinted at him. He couldn’t sense any deception, either in the man’s body language or in his Force presence, but with the Dark Side so thick on Coruscant, he wasn’t as confident in his abilities as he had once been. “Strange, around you, the Force is.” 

The Doctor blinked. “The Force?” 

Master Yoda chuckled. “The Force, yes. That which the Jedi can sense, which binds the universe together.”

“... Right.” 

“Know of the Force, you do not?” 

The Doctor scratched the back of his head. “Can’t say I’m familiar with it, no.” 

“And yet, around you, it is active. Around your friend, too.” 

“Rose?” 

Master Yoda hummed. “Howls around her, it does.” 

The Doctor froze, alarm flaring in his presence. “Howls?” 

“Like a wolf, it does. Around you, sings, it does. A sad song, yes. Very sad, and very long.” 

The Doctor let out a long, thin breath. “Psychics,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. 

Master Yoda couldn’t help but cackle. “Not used to others knowing so much, you are. Used to being the sharpest in the room. Arrogance, that is. Though unearned, I think, it is not.” 

The Doctor gave him a disgruntled look. “I- I suppose. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Grandmaster Yoda, I am. Of the Jedi order.” Master Yoda stopped walking and met the Doctor’s eyes, levity fading. “Much Darkness in the Galaxy, there is. Much pain and danger I sense. Much Darkness in you, too, I see. But want to help, I think you do.”

The Doctor softened. He nodded. “That’s what we do, me and Rose. Help, wherever we can.” 

“Believe you, I do. Protect Senator Amidala, you should continue to. Important, she is, and brave. Help, Master Kenobi will.” He patted the Doctor’s knee. “Go now, I must. With you, may the Force be.” 

And he shuffled off, leaving a bemused Doctor in his wake. 

Rose stopped listening to the debate after a few minutes. She’d never been interested in politics. Instead, she wandered over to the window, watching the traffic zoom past. It wasn’t hard to imagine this as a future version of London, though the weather was a fair bit nicer. The Doctor wasn’t back yet, which meant that either he was still chatting with the Jedi, or he had gone off to do some snooping of his own.

There wasn’t much for Rose to snoop through in the Chancellor’s office without being caught, though, so she kept one eye on the Senators and another on the sky. After a time, the Chancellor peeled himself away from the debate and came to join her. 

“It’s a lovely view, isn’t it?” He asked, giving her a small smile.

“Gorgeous,” Rose agreed.

“One of the few perks of the office,” he sighed. 

Rose laughed. “Oh, come on. Supreme Chancellor of the Republic? ‘S gotta have its upsides, doesn’t it?” 

“Fewer than one might think, these days, I’m afraid.” He rubbed his temples. 

Rose felt a surge of pity for the man. It couldn’t have been easy for him to think that Padmé had died, and still have had to do his job for the entire day. She set a gentle hand on his arm. 

“Seems to me like you’re doing a pretty good job, yeah?” She said. “Diplomacy and that. ‘S important.” 

“Thank you, my dear. You’re very kind. Rose, was it?”

“That’s me. Rose Tyler.” 

“A lovely name. Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, er. Far away. I’ve traveled a long way to be here,” she said, her mind going back to her small London flat and her mother and Mickey, both literal and figurative worlds away. God, what would her mother think, seeing her chatting to the most powerful man in the galaxy like it was nothing? Dressed in a gown like some kind of princess? She chuckled to herself, despite the twinge of sadness in her heart. She’d have to visit home soon. 

The Chancellor gave her a questioning look, and she waved a hand. 

“Sorry. Just… thought about home.” 

“Ah. Yes. Nostalgia for those we left behind, hmm? It raises its head at the strangest of times.”

Rose nodded in agreement. “And you’re from, er, Naboo, right? Same as P- As the Senator?”

“That’s right,” he agreed, folding his arms in his trailing sleeves. 

“What’s it like?” Rose asked curiously, turning to face him a little more. 

A small smile spread across his aged face, smoothing away the stress and worry. “The jewel of the galaxy,” he said, voice saturated with fondness. “The most beautiful planet you’ve ever seen. I miss it all the more in a city like this. The forests and the lakes and gardens. Oh, you should see it.” 

“Sounds amazing,” Rose said. “Me, I gre up in a city. This,” she gestured to the window, “reminds me of home. Mind you, my city wasn’t nearly as big as this one. No flying cars, for a start,” she added under her breath. 

The Chancellor looked confused, but before he could ask more, Senator Organa was calling him back to the table. 

“Ah, excuse me, my dear. I’m afraid I’m needed.” 

Rose chuckled and waved him off. “‘S’alright. Nice talking to ya.” 

“And you, my dear.” 

The Doctor reappeared some time later, looking contemplative. He didn’t have a chance to discuss what the goblin had told him with the Senators so close, but he did give Rose a long, serious look, and refused to explain why. 

Rose gave up on listening to the politicking and found a comfy chair near the door to wait in. She had no idea what the Committee had actually managed to accomplish before they left. She, the Doctor, Padmé, Captain Typho, Jar Jar Binks, and Padmé ‘s handmaidens all returned to Padmés apartment for lunch. 

The food was delicious, and Rose thoroughly enjoyed herself watching the Doctor try and puzzle out their new Gungan friend while Padmé and the others observed with amusement that bordered on vindictive. _Finally,_ their laughing eyes and twitching lips seemed to say, _someone else had to deal with this, too._

The Doctor, for his part, was a good, if wrong-footed, sport. Eventually, the meal was cleaned up, and most the handmaidens had vanished to who-knew-where, leaving Senator Amidala, Captain Typho, Dormé, the Doctor, and Rose to await the Jedi security. 

Rose had, at least, managed to corner to Doctor in the lift and get him to explain what, exactly, a Jedi was. 

_“They’re an order of psychic and psionic beings, Rose! They dedicate their lives to being diplomats and peacekeepers across the galaxy.”_

_At her blank look, he’d sighed and ran a hand through his hair._

_“Think monks, but with laser swords. And in space.”_

_“Why do peacekeepers need laser swords?” Rose had asked, giggling._

_The Doctor had given her an incredulous look, and she had to concede the point._

_“I’m surprised you approve,” she’s commented. “Laser swords seem a bit, well, weapon-y, for you.”_

_The Doctor had shrugged. “Better than a gun, any day. Besides, the whole point of the Jedi is to not actually need the laser sword- it’s called a lightsaber, by the way. Don’t offend them.”_

And that had been that. 

What Rose hadn’t been expecting from the laser-sword-wielding monks was the pair that strolled into Padmé ‘s apartment. Both were unreasonably attractive, despite the younger one’s appalling haircut. They wore the same style of robes as Master Windu had, and seemed overwhelmed by Jar Jar’s exuberant greeting. 

The Doctor paused in his excited speech about the history of Coruscant, which Rose and the Senator had been listening to with increasingly confused interest, when Jar Jar called for their attention. 

Both of the Jedi were staring at the Doctor and Rose, though the older one was doing a better job of hiding it. His companion, who looked around Rose’s age, had his mouth slightly agape. It took his friend elbowing him, subtly, in the side, to get him to pay attention. 

The first Jedi bowed as the Senator approached, shaking her hand. “It is a great pleasure to see you again, My Lady.” 

“It’d been far too long, Master Kenobi,” Padmé said fondly. Then her eyes fell on the second man and went very wide. “Ani?” She gasped. “My goodness, you’ve grown.” 

‘Ani’ flushed, shifting uncomfortably. “So have-” 

The Doctor interrupted him, slipping neatly past Padmé to shake both of the Jedi’s hands with a huge grin. “Hello,” he said. “I’m the Doctor, this is Rose.”

Rose waved, trying not to let her pity show in her smile. _Poor guy,_ she thought, taking in ‘Ani’’s disappointed expression. 

“Ah,” Kenobi said, politely retracting his hand. “Yes, Master Windu mentioned you.” He gave the Doctor a puzzled once over. “I am Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is my Padawan, Anakin Skywalker.” 

The Doctor started slightly, then frowned at them. “Hm.” 

Anakin dipped his head at the pair of them, and Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the Senator. She led them to the same yellow-beige couches from before, she, Jar Jar, and Dormé sitting across from the Jedi.

Rose, behind Captain Typho, leaned towards the Doctor.

“What’s ‘hm’?” She asked. 

“Nothing. Just… Skywalker and Kenobi.” He tugged on a lock of brown hair. “I feel like I know those names.” 

Rose looked between the two Jedi and Captain Typho, who was thanking them for their help. After a moment of frustrated glowering, the Doctor shook his head. 

“Ah, well. I’m sure it’ll come to me.” 

He bounded forward a few paces to stand beside Typho. Rose followed. 

“... answers,” Padmé said. “I want to know who’s trying to kill me.” 

“And quite right, too,” the Doctor threw in. “The faster we figure out who’s behind this, the faster we can ensure the Senator’s safety.” 

Padmé looked pleased, but Kenobi frowned, leaning forward. 

“We’re here to protect the Senator, not start an investigation.” 

“Yeah,” the Doctor agreed, “but where’s the fun in that?” 

“We are not here to have fun,” Kenobi shot back, with an air of affronted dignity. 

Rose smothered a laugh behind her hand. Oh, there was a maverick, there, pretending to follow the rules. She tapped the Doctor on the shoulder, then whispered. “I give it, hmm, six hours before he’s neck deep.” 

The Doctor snickered. “No chance.” 

“I think we should find out who’s trying to kill her,” Anakin protested. “The Doctor’s right. If we know who it is, we can stop it. That’s protecting her.” 

Padmé gave him a luminous smile and he turned scarlet, staring hard at the floor. Obi-Wan managed to keep a more-or-less straight face, but the look he gave Anakin was unmistakable. Rose had seen it on many a parent, teacher, or older sibling in her time. 

“We will not exceed our mandate, my young padawan learner,” he said, tone clipped. 

“That’s alright, then,” the Doctor said, pulling out his sonic and flipping it. “Me and Rose’ll take care of it. If that’s alright with you, Senator.” 

“Please,” she replied. “I want to know who’s behind this, Doctor. If you can find out, I would be most grateful.” 

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, looking a bit sour, and Captain Typho scowled. Rose just grinned, laughter rising in her throat. The Doctor gave them all a mischievous, brilliant smirk that promised trouble, and made Rose’s heart do funny things in her chest. 

He sprang over the edge of the couch and settled next to Anakin, leaning forward and locking eyes with the Senator. 

“In the Chancellor’s office, you accused Count Dooku. Now, what can you tell me about him, and why do you think he’d be after your life?” 

Padmé lifted her chin. “Count Dooku is one of the agitators behind the unrest in the Republic. As Master Windu said, he was once a Jedi Knight, but he left the order. I... don’t know why.” She looked at Obi-Wan, who sighed. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know the exact reason, either. Ideological differences, I believe.” 

The Doctor made a thoughtful humming sound. “What ideological differences could propel him to abandon his life’s work?” he wondered. 

“Count Dooku is from a noble family of Serenno,” Padmé volunteered, “which is in the outer rim. He’d encouraging planets like it to withdraw from the Republic. I believe he wants civil war, and thus, would like the Military Creation Act to pass. It would drive hundreds of worlds straight into his arms.” 

Rose felt her stomach sink. 

_If I’m right, and I usually am, we are right at the beginning of a galactic civil war._

It seemed whatever Rose and the Doctor did, Count Dooku would get his wish. 

“Only a fool desires war,” the Doctor said, features darkening. 

“I quite agree,” Obi-Wan said. “Which is why I, for one, doubt Dooku’s hand. My grandmaster is no fool.” 

Anakin started, giving Obi-Wan a wide-eyed look of surprise, which Obi-Wan didn’t acknowledge.

“Your grandmaster?” Padmé echoed. “You know the Count personally?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I have only met him a few times in person, and never for long. He’s always been aloof. But, to my knowledge, he is no murderer. No Jedi is.” 

“Not a Jedi anymore, mate,” Rose reminded him. 

Obi-Wan grimaced. “Point, I suppose. Still, until there is some proof, I am reluctant to accuse him.” 

Anakin’s eyes glinted. He leaned forward eagerly, but Obi-Wan held up a hand. 

“That does not mean we will investigate, Padawan. We will do as the council bade us.” 

Anakin glowered, grinding his teeth. Rose, standing behind the Doctor, patted his shoulder. 

Padmé sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Perhaps with merely your presence, the mystery surrounding this threat will be revealed. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, standing. The rest of the group stood as well, the Doctor a beat later than the rest, “I will retire.”

Obi-Wan bowed as she and Dormé strode away.

“I know I’ll feel better having you here,” Captain Typho said, leading the group away. “I’ll have an officer stationed on every floor, and I’ll be in the control center downstairs.” 

“This control center,” the Doctor said, “could I see it?”

“Very well,” Captain Typho said, sounding suspicious and put upon. The Doctor pretended not to notice.

“Yes, I’d quite like to check the security myself,” Obi-Wan agreed. 

The Doctor looked over his shoulder. “Rose, you stay here. Keep an eye out.” 

Rose spread her hands, giving him an annoyed look. “You keep leavin’ me behind,” she complained. “What am I s’posed to do here?” 

“I just said. Keep an eye out. Here.” He tossed her his psychic paper.

“And what am I meant to do with this?”

“Dunno. Hang on to it, though, just in case.” 

Rose let out an aggrieved sigh and stared at the ceiling. “Fine. Guess I’m staying here.”

“And don’t wander off!” The Doctor called, stepping into the lift. 

Rose made a face at him. 

Obi-Wan, suppressing amusement, turned to Anakin. “Stay with her,” he said. “We’ll check the control center, you two check the security up here.” 

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said. He still sounded unhappy. 

Obi-Wan gave him a small smile and patted him once on the shoulder. “I have faith in you, my young Padawan. The Senator is counting on us.” 

That seemed to light some determination in Anakin. “Right,” he said, straightening. 

Obi-Wan joined Captain Typho and the Doctor in the lift, and the three of them began to descend. 

Night fell as Rose and Anakin checked the security in the Senator’s apartment. Rose wasn’t sure what she was doing, which she admitted to Anakin. He laughed, not unkindly, and began showing her what to look for. 

“So,” Rose asked, watching as Anakin checked the nooks and crannies of the curved rooms. “How long have you known the Senator?” 

Even with his back turned, Rose could see the pink rise along Anakin’s neck. He cleared his throat. 

“I met her when I was nine,” he admitted. “She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”

Mentally, Rose _aw'd._ Anakin scratched the back of his neck, shoulders hunching. 

“I thought she was an angel.” 

“That’s so sweet,” Rose said. 

Anakin turned even brighter red, curling in on himself. He was around Rose’s age, but his awkwardness made him seem younger. Not to mention the awful haircut. 

Actually, he reminded Rose a bit of herself, before meeting the Doctor. Uncertain, a little afraid, full of doubt. She’d handled herself with trademark Tyler stubbornness, the fire and volume that she’d gotten from her mother. Anakin didn’t have that shield. 

“She seemed pleased to see you,” Rose commented, not quite teasing. 

Anakin slumped. “She didn’t even recognize me,” he said. 

“Well, you _were_ nine, when you last met,” Rose pointed out. “‘M not sure I’d recognize myself, at nine. And she really was happy when she realized who you were.” 

“You think?” Anakin asked, brightening. 

Rose laughed. “Yeah. I hadn’t seen her smile like that all day.” 

Anakin paused. “How did _you_ meet Padmé?”

“Er. Me and the Doctor are extra security,” Rose said, which was true enough _now_ , even if it wasn’t why they’d shown up.

Anakin didn’t seem convinced. “Extra security that didn’t know how to search the room?”

Rose winced. “Erm. I’m new. The Doctor’s the real expert. I’m just helping out.” 

“Uh-huh,” he said. He stopped what he was doing to face her fully. He gave her a strange look, like he was seeing past her and into her all at once. “Your Force presence is strange.” 

“My what?” 

“Force presence.” 

Rose looked around, as if asking for help, but there was no one else there. Jar Jar had wandered away not long after Padmé and Dormé went to bed, so it was just her and Anakin in the room. 

“Sorry, mate, I don’t know what that is.” 

Anakin crossed his arms, frowning thoughtfully. “The Force is the energy that connects all living things,” he said. “Some people, like Jedi, are Force-Sensitive. They can interact with that energy.”

_Psychic, psionic space monks. Right._

“Everyone has a presence in the Force, even people who aren’t Force-Sensitive, and yours is… I’ve never seen one like it before.” 

For a moment, Rose remembered Gwynyth, in a house in Cardiff, and her wide, dark eyes. She remembered a werewolf in Scotland, and words that followed her everywhere. _There’s something of the wolf about you._

“What’s it like?” She asked, unable to restrain her curiosity. 

Anakin thought for a moment, bright blue eyes going unfocused. “It’s like- Like you’re burning, but gold. And there’s something howling around you. It sounds like-”

“-like a wolf,” Rose finished, feeling herself pale. 

“Yeah. Like that.” 

“Do you know what it means?”

Anakin shook his head. “Sorry, no. I told you, I’ve never seen anything like it. Master Obi-Wan might, or Master Yoda. You could try asking them, if you get the chance.” 

“Right. I- I’ll do that.” Rose cleared her throat and smoothed down the front of her dress. “Is this room clear?” 

“Yeah. Let’s go to the next one.” 


End file.
